Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

Before she could respond, I captured her mouth. All the bad news and horrible memories disappeared within those sweet lips. No longer did I care about the Lion, or Celina. No longer did I wonder why the bad memory of my father and the song appeared.

I sucked on her tongue. She’d been sipping on something sweet. Honey. For a minute, I leaned away from her, needing to take a breath, scared that I would devour her.

She licked her lips as if trying to taste me.

I grunted. Already, my balls ached. “Lay down.”

She did. Her breasts jiggled with the movement as they propped high on her chest. On my desk, she looked like a special buffet laid out for a horny king.

I snatched at the thong. The lace tore away in my fingers with ease.

I gazed at her with an intensity I couldn’t explain. “Do you mind if I play with this sweet pussy?”

Her voice was a hungry whisper. “Please.”

“When you play, you open me like a song.” I stroked those moist folds, concentrating on the throbbing bud. “And I swear that my soul plays back the melody.”

The clit was such a special button on the female body. It was a blessing from God, for both men and women. For women, they had so many ways to be turned on and orgasm. For men, it gave us some cheat codes to a women’s body. And so I slipped my fingers slowly along her clit, learning her passion, taking note of how she moaned when I drew a slow circle around it.

Breathing in, I confessed. “I want your scent all over me.”

I leaned over and dove my face into that pussy.

She shrieked at first, and then it turned into a shivery moan, as I rubbed my face all over her pussy, sliding my cheeks against all the wetness, poking her clit with my nose. Inhaling the fragrance of her lust. And then I licked and sucked.

“Oh, Jean-Pierre.” She rocked into my face.

I pulled her legs over my shoulders, getting a better target on that clit. I relished in her taste as I licked. I groaned from the warmth as I slid my fingers into both tight little holes.

“Oh.” Crying in pleasure, she arched up from the desk.

“Once again you’re the tranquility in my soul.” Tasting my lips, I rose and snatched at my tie, wishing all my clothes were off. “You always save me from the terror of my mind.”

“Your words are always so beautiful.” She sat up and took over undoing my tie. It was off in seconds. She moved her attention to my shirt, unbuttoning with a hunger that made me groan.

I loved the way she took control, but my impatience wouldn’t let me enjoy her undressing me for too long. I undid my pants, ready to be inside of her and unable to help myself.

When my clothes fell to the floor, she lay back down on the desk.

I lowered myself onto her, wrapping her legs around my waist and pumping into the softest place on Earth. “What could be better than your pussy?”

She moaned, and that sound possessed me more than her violin playing. With no hesitation, I craved her. I wanted to own her body and those cries of pleasure.

I kissed her, trying my best to consume her.

Never had I let go with her like in this moment. The desk rocked. My lamp fell from the edge. And then the phone crashed off the side. Grunting, I sped up. Her nipples bobbled as her breasts bounced. I gathered one in my mouth, sucked, and pumped some more.

Her pussy was so wet. So welcoming. It hugged my cock. It gave me hope. It was paradise. Pussy designed by a loving universe. It was sunshine in this dark world. It was pleasure among all of the pain.

So good. Too good.

“All mine.” I pulled out of Eden, and those sweet walls gripped my cock eagerly, trying to yank me back in. “Damn you.”

My cock throbbed as I slid in and out of her, and I held her body tighter against me. Hard and greedy like a mad man, scared that she would disappear, if the hold was too loose. Petrified that heaven would take my angel away. The idea of any other man touching her, holding her, fucking her, it triggered rage to blaze inside of my chest. She was mine and no one else could have her.

“Jean-Pierre,” she moaned.

I grunted, “Mien.”

This woman was all mine. This pussy, this love, this beautiful woman slipping against my body, becoming one with me, this was why I would wake up every day.

Many stood in our way. I didn’t know if they were trying to block the path to our love, or not. But they were coming. Crouching within the shadows of Paris. Refusing to let us enjoy our lives. But we would win. Nothing would get in our way.